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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829058">Small Favors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich'>WizardSandwich</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prowl Week [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No War, Gen, I'm sorry for that, Transformer Sparklings, i just wanted to write some sparklings but in the process i utterly fucked the timeline, idw-ish elements, most of what i know about parenting comes from being an older sibling i'm sorry, no editing i'm running on fumes, prowl is an awkward parent, rewind is a cool step parent and chromedome and prowl don't hate each other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:09:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 7 - Free Choice</p><p>Prowl gets bitlet-watching duty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chromedome &amp; Prowl (Transformers), Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers), Toaster &amp; Prowl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prowl Week [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Prowl Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Small Favors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the prowl and blaster family is a complex beast tbh. also you can blame me and the scav server for the names of toaster's symbiont's bc i decided to call one butter and then the rest were suggested to me.</p><p>i'm posting this early bc i'm a MENACE and i refuse to be stopped.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Prowl,” Toaster greets, barely giving Prowl time to open the door. He looks and sounds frantic, a wiggling pink symbiont—Jam—in his arms. A basket hangs off his elbow. “Can you do me a favor?”</p><p>Butter stands by his side, holding another small purple symbiont—Jelly. On top of Toaster’s helm, Honey makes themselves at home.</p><p>“What do you need help with?” Prowl asks, somewhat carefully.</p><p>Toaster tries to keep Jam from wiggling out of his grip. The newspark whines, language packets not yet integrated into their frame.</p><p>“We need to go to the clinic. Blaster got sick. I have to pick up his bitlets,” Toaster explains, specifically meaning the younger two. Blaster’s other symbionts were much older. Rewind was even conjunxed. “I wanted to know if you’d watch these two until someone can pick them up?”</p><p>Honey’s wings flutter in amusement as they take in Prowl’s consideration. They were as observant as Toaster, though much more naturally quiet. Prowl would say he took his time to consider it, but Toaster’s frazzled state makes Prowl more inclined to say yes. Besides, Counterstrike <em>was</em> an easy sparkling.</p><p>He says yes.</p><p>Toaster looks relieved when he hands over Jam, taking Jelly from Butter’s arms and following Prowl into his apartment. Jelly coos, optics wandering around the walls, eagerly taking the environment in. There were new drawings on the walls.</p><p>Toaster sets him on Prowl’s couch. “I’m really sorry to just drop them on you like this, Prowl,” Toaster says.</p><p>Prowl’s doorwings raise then lower again and his optics soften. Fondness permeates his frame for anyone who knows how to see it. Toaster does.</p><p>“It’s no problem,” Prowl says, bouncing Jam slightly in his arms. “Do you know when Jazz will get here?”</p><p>It’s a slight assumption, but not an unprecedented one. Jazz worked odd hours as a performer and, as such, often took to bitsitting when Prowl or Blaster or Toaster needed it. It wasn’t often, but just enough that Jazz kept his time free and called when he had plans after work.</p><p>Toaster shakes his helm, “I’ll have him comm. you when he heads this way.”</p><p>“Of course,” Prowl acknowledges easily. “Counterstrike will be glad for the company.”</p><p>“I’m sure he will be,” Toaster says, smiling. “Tell him I said hi.”</p><p>Toaster, Honey, and Butter are gone in the next moment. The basket that was on Toaster’s elbow sits by the door. Prowl knows it’s mostly full of treats and games. Toaster had a bad habit of spoiling sparklings, both his own and others.</p><p>Prowl turns toward the sparkling on his couch. “Do you want your mid-cycle meal?” Prowl asks, setting Jelly down beside Jam.</p><p>They had both only been put in their frames five quartexes ago, so they were currently unable to download language packets. Spark-made—kindled—sparks were odd in that way and in others, in ways that cold-constructed and forged sparks weren’t.</p><p>Jam nods eagerly, obviously excited at the prospect of a meal. Prowl smiles, patting their helm, “Alright, both of you stay here. I’m going to wake Counterstrike from his nap and then we can eat.”</p><p>Perhaps it’s not a good idea to leave bitlets as rowdy as Jam and Jelly alone, but the worst they could do was overturn the couch cushions or knock over a table. Counterstrike had done worse during his first vorn.</p><p>Prowl makes a point to knock on his bitlet’s door before entering. It was a habit that Prowl had thought beneficial to teach him early and Prowl thought it would be unfair if he were not held to the same rules.</p><p>Counterstrike is wiggling from his mess of blankets when Prowl steps in. His little doorwings are caught in the fabric and he tries to wiggle them free. It’s not working well for him, based on the angry little expression that adorns his features.</p><p>“Do you need help?” Prowl asks.</p><p>Counterstrike looks up at him and huffs, turning his attention back to the blanket, “No!”</p><p>“Very well,” Prowl says, amused. “I will have to tell Jam and Jelly that you’re unable to join them.”</p><p>Counterstrike stops wiggling at that. “Toaster?” he asks.</p><p>“No, Blaster had an emergency,” he explains. “It’s just the two of them. However, he did say hello.”</p><p>Counterstrike nods and holds up his doorwings. “Off?” he asks.</p><p>Prowl lets out an amused vent, lifting the blanket off of his creation. Counterstrike wiggles, because he always wiggles, into Prowl’s abdomen, wrapping his arms around Prowl’s waist. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Prowl says, picking him up. “It’s time for energon.”</p><p>Counterstrike nods, letting himself be pressed against Prowl’s hood.</p><p>When they return to the living room, they find Jam half under the couch and Jelly under the couch cushions themselves. It’s an amusing picture and Prowl finds he’s glad he wasn’t wrong about how much trouble they would get into. They were Toaster's symbionts, after all.</p><p>“Having fun?” he asks, as he sets Counterstrike down.</p><p>Jelly pokes his little helm over the cushions, big optics blinking up at Prowl. He peeps and pushes them off, crawling off the couch.</p><p>Jam appears to have gotten themselves stuck. Counterstrike moves to pull them out, but Prowl stops him.</p><p>“We have to be careful,” Prowl tells him. “If we don’t, they could get hurt.”</p><p>Jam whines from under the couch, legs wiggling. Prowl can bet they’re a moment away from breaking down into tears.</p><p>“You’re okay,” he mutters to them. He lifts the edge of the couch. “Counterstrike, would you grab them?”</p><p>Counterstrike, ever the helpful bitlet, grabs them, pulling them out from under the couch with a grunt. Jam tries to kick him. “Heavy,” he complains to them. “Don’t kick.”</p><p>When Prowl is sure Jam is completely out from under the couch, he sets it back down. He takes a moment to look Jam over and finds he wasn’t wrong about the tears. They’re sniffling from their place on the floor.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go get energon,” Prowl says, lifting them. He leans down to pick Jelly up from his spot near the table.</p><p>Counterstrike darts ahead of Prowl into the dispensary. Prowl shakes his helm and trails after him, somewhat glad he doesn’t have to deal with three sparklings regularly. He loves Counterstrike, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with more than one. He didn’t know how Toaster or Blaster did it, but they were clearly happy with themselves.</p><p>Counterstrike is rummaging through the additive storage chest when Prowl gets into the room. Every time they had fuel, he very decisively went through them all to pick whatever he wanted. Whatever he wanted typically tended to be the same five flavors.</p><p>“Jelly and Jam?” his creation asks, not even bothering for the full question. He was not a sparkling of many words quite yet.</p><p>“They can have anything,” Prowl tells him. Toaster hadn’t come across anything that had caused an adverse reaction in the two yet. They hadn’t had the same reaction to mercury that Butter had.</p><p>Prowl sits Jam and Jelly at the table. Toaster came over often enough for there to be seats for them.</p><p>Counterstrike nods at the answer, picking a box of copper additives out of the chest. Prowl moves to the energon storage unit, pulling out the smaller cubes designed for sparklings. He fills them up in the dispenser by the door, setting them on the table.</p><p>Counterstrike carefully sprinkles copper into the cubes.</p><p>“Not too much,” Prowl reminds, watching him.</p><p>Counterstrike nods, acknowledging Prowl’s words. He pulls away from the cubes with a victorious smile, though some of the copper gets on the table.</p><p>“Good job,” Prowl praises. “If I get a rag, will you clean up the mess after you eat? I will help you.”</p><p>Counterstrike shakes his helm and Prowl bites back a sigh, setting the cube in front of the other two sparklings. Counterstrike was a stubborn bitlet. He didn’t enjoy cleaning, which was an issue when he and Prowl were organizing his toys and such.</p><p>Counterstrike happily drinks his fuel as Prowl gets his own. Prowl finishes much faster than the three dribbly sparklings and he knows he doesn’t have the spark to make Counterstrike clean up his own mess as he excitedly talks to Jelly and Jam. The twins look delighted with the interaction, shifting in their seats and cooing at Counterstrike.</p><p>Counterstrike looks up at Prowl with big optics when he’s finished, clearly expecting him to tell him to clean up his mess. Prowl rolls his optics. “Go play,” he says.</p><p>Counterstrike, despite the permission, patiently waits for Prowl to remove Jam and Jelly from their chairs.</p><p>“Thanks,” Counterstrike calls, as he plops himself on the floor next to them.</p><p>Counterstrike loved bitlets younger than him. He’d asked for a younger sibling once. He and Chromedome had staunchly denied him that, mostly because they were no longer together. Though, Rewind and Chromedome themselves were more than likely to give that to him.</p><p>Prowl takes the opportunity, and the lack of evacuating the dispensary, to start cleaning up. He fishes out a rag to clean up the copper as Counterstrike slips out of the room to grab a set of toys.</p><p>Prowl is thankful for his doorwings. On their highest setting, he can keep himself aware of Toaster’s pair. They mostly just toddle and crawl around, trying to get on chairs until Counterstrike returns.</p><p>Prowl leaves the cubes in the sink to be washed later and turns to his creation and Toaster’s bitlets again. Jam's plush—a cassette tape—sits on the ground next to them, indicating that Counterstrike had found Toaster’s basket. Another sign of that is Counterstrike unwrapping a treat and stuffing it in his mouth.</p><p>“Counterstrike,” Prowl says, scolding.</p><p>Counterstrike’s little doorwings lower. He looks chastised already. Prowl knows he should be a stricter creator but he can only sigh, “No more until later.”</p><p>Counterstrike nods, dropping the candy in his chubby little servos. Prowl kneels by his side to collect it. “You have to be careful, anyway,” Prowl says. “You know that certain treats are bad for you.”</p><p>Counterstrike’s little tanks couldn’t process certain additives and they often made him sick. Prowl knew that Toaster would never bring anything harmful into Prowl’s apartment, but it was important for Counterstrike to learn to ask and check.</p><p>The bitlets are playing in the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Jazz hasn’t commed so Prowl only has one or two guesses as to who it could be.</p><p>He leaves the bitlets to answer the door. Chromedome and Rewind wait outside. Rewind’s visor brightens when he answers. “Hey, Prowl,” he greets.</p><p>“Hello, Rewind,” Prowl returns. “Did you come to take Counterstrike to the park?”</p><p>Rewind shakes his helm, making Prowl relieved that he didn’t miss some message. “No. Jazz couldn’t make it to pick up Jam and Jelly.”</p><p>Prowl steps aside, letting them both through. “They took a nap earlier while Counterstrike did his numbers. They shouldn’t be too cranky.”</p><p>The two step in, Rewind immediately going to talk to the three sparklings. He seemed to have a way with them that neither Prowl nor Chromedome had. Blaster joked that it ran in the family. Prowl was inclined to believe him, all things considered.</p><p>“Do you want to take Counterstrike with you when you go?” Prowl asks Chromedome.</p><p>Prowl hated parting with his bitlet, but Chromedome and Rewind didn’t get to see him nearly as often as Prowl. When they’d decided on custody, Chromedome had been learning mnemosurgery. He hadn’t had a stable enough schedule to care for Counterstrike.</p><p>Chromedome nods, suddenly looking much happier, “You’re okay with that?”</p><p>“He misses you and you miss him. Besides, Rewind loves him,” Prowl says. “It would be unfair of me to not let you have time with him.”</p><p>Chromedome cannot smile, but he leans down and presses his faceplate to Prowl’s cheek. It’s a sweet gesture, typically reserved for amica or conjunx.</p><p>“You’re the best,” Chromedome says, pulling away. “Thanks, Prowl.”</p><p>Rewind and Chromedome leave with the three bitlets and Toaster’s refilled basket. They also leave with Prowl’s camera, promising to take pictures when they take Counterstrike out.</p><p>It all makes Prowl’s spark warm.</p>
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